Looked through the paper,
Makes you want to cry.
Nobody cares if the people,
Live or die.
And the dealer wants you thinking,
That it's either black or white.
Thank God it's not that simple,
In my secret life.

I bite my lip.
I buy what I'm told.
From the latest hit,
To the wisdom of old.
But I'm always alone,
And my heart is like ice.
And it's crowded and cold,
In my secret life